


My Name in your Lips

by Muspell



Series: Hardbacked and Leatherbound [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Fluffy Porn, M/M, Porn With Plot, and the boys being cute, if that's a thing, viktor being nosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-14 04:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11200062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muspell/pseuds/Muspell
Summary: Yuri invites Otabek over to a cottage at the beach for their summer vacation. Nevermind it's actually the Katsuki-Nikiforov couple who's inviting them; Otabek would never waste a chance to spend some time around his Yuri again.It's been too damn long after all. it always is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BoxWineConfessions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/gifts).



> As always, thank to my lovely editor BlackmountainBones and my amazing beta and plothole fixer Katabulo for their work and patience. It'd be a mess without them.  
> and of course, this is a Birthday present to my queen and inspiration BoxWineConfessions, mighty empress of the fandom and one of the most awesome girls i've ever had the chance to meet. Go on and say Happy Birthday, folks!

Yuri doesn’t waste a second. Otabek closes the door of their room behind him and Yuri is on him immediately, hands cupping Otabek’s chin and kissing him so softly, yet so desperately, as if all of it would fade if they didn’t cling to it hard enough.

It’s been too long. Too long and Otabek feels almost drunk already, Yuri’s body against his and the chill touch of the wooden door sneaking under his shirt, railed up by the grinding and caressing and…

Otabek is overwhelmed, really: his skin buzzing with eagerness and anticipation, his mind too overflown to understand any of it, working on autopilot. He wants Yuri, he needs to feel him all around him; biting his lip, caressing his waist, running his fingernails down his back. He can barely hear his own voice, teased and held back as he was the whole day. He’s got only one thing on his mind, one voice he wants to hear crying out his name. He feels the words flowing out of him in between sloppy kisses, slurring through lips pressed together and already bright pink; a thread of saliva still hanging between the two as Yuri darted to the side to roughly bite his neck.

It all vanishes: the summer cottage, the thin walls, the _company_ ; even the sound of seagulls over their heads grow silent as Otabek lets out a lewd moan, hands splayed up against the door to stop his legs from giving in under his weight.

“I’ve missed that sound so much,” Yuri murmurs against his ear and Otabek feels the little restraint he still had flying out the window. He presses his tongue on Yuri’s neck, the little metal ball on the middle tickling as he licks a slow trace from his collarbone to his ear, to gnaw on his lobe.

His voice sounds feral in Yuri’s ear and his hands feel hard on his skin, cupping his ass to hold him against Otabek’s crotch. “I missed you, Yura.” They break apart only a second for Yuri to pull Otabek’s shirt over his head and fall into each other’s arms again, teeth clashing against lips in the process. The stinging on his flesh does nothing to stop Otabek from kissing Yuri as if his breath was the only thing keeping him alive. And fuck, he’s been out of it for too long; he just can’t have enough. “I missed you so much.”

Yuri stops suddenly, pulling back and holding Otabek’s hands at his sides, admiring him. He smirks and Otabek complains, no, _whines_ for him to come back.

Yuri just chuckles. “No. Let me have this.”

Otabek pushes forward, without so much as struggling against Yuri’s grip. As a prey would do, showing his throat to the predator in defeat. “Anything you want.” He’s been hunted too many times, too roughly. Teeth and claws and bruises flowering on his skin. But this… This feels like a victory, even while being held back and mewling for attention. This feels like home.

Home is anywhere where he can drown in Yuri’s embrace.

Yet he isn’t coming any closer. “This is what I want.” Yuri licks his lips slowly and Otabek feels the rumbling of a growl muffled in between tightly clenched teeth. “You. Like this.” He looms closer to whisper against Otabek’s lips, who doesn’t dare close the gap between them. “You’re a vision, Beka.”

Otabek closes his eyes, smiles. He can’t understand why: all he wanted was to feel Yuri next to him, to see him so close without touching him, to smell his breath sweet with apple cider and candy tickling the tip of Otabek’s nose, threatening a kiss that never came. The last thing Otabek wants to do was to close his eyes, but there is a special caress, running deep inside of him, spreading a certain kind of warmth only Yuri could awake.

He’s been touched and prodded and caressed in a hundred different ways by so many anonymous hands, but this isn't just a touch. Fingertips and tongues and the static of skin against skin alone can’t reach as deep; no, this is something else.

Yuri’s words awaken something inside of Otabek he didn’t know he could feel.He just can’t refuse Yuri.

Yuri lets him go to pull off his own shirt, then takes Otabek’s hands back into his. He smirks as he feels Otabek’s penetrating gaze fixated on him, taking in every detail, every freckle, every scar. Yuri walks slowly backwards, pulling Otabek along, peppering with a kiss to his mouth here and there, just to make him smile again when Yuri’s lips fall on his nose. The back of his knees finally touch the edge of the mattress and Yuri sits on the bed, his hands moving from Otabek’s up to his arms, to his waist and down, hooking on the waistband of his jeans. Yuri’s eyes focus on the already visible hard-on through his too tight pants.

Yuri kisses him right on the tip of his cock and Otabek lets out a muffled gasp, hands suddenly entangled in Yuri’s locks, closing in out of reflex. “May I?” Yuri teases, his tongue barely peeking out from the corner of his lips, and his thumbs delicately pushing the waistband of Otabek’s jeans down.

Otabek puts his hands behind his back in reply and Yuri leans back to drink all of him in. He clicks his tongue, eyes blazing with desire, before leaning in again to trace Otabek’s hip bones with little pecks and nibbles, his fingers undoing the jeans expertly as he lowers himself to hold the fabric of Otabek’s boxers in between his teeth.

Otabek pushes his thumbs down his waistband to lower his pants as Yuri takes care of his boxers, his lips brushing against his pubes, kissing down so impossibly slow Otabek has to bite his cheek to stop himself from forcing Yuri’s head down on him.

“On the bed. Anything I want, right?” Yuri looks up at him through heavy lidded eyes and Otabek follows, crawling up onto the bed to let Yuri position him with his back against the headboard and legs spread for Yuri to sit between.

Otabek can only nod as Yuri’s fingers start tracing up from a delicate but firm grip on his inner thighs to the line of his hipbones and along his sides; Yuri presses a kiss onto his lips, and it’s so soft, Otabek feels the world fade under his lashes. Nothing left but Yuri’s lips against his, crawling over his throat, his collarbones, his chest. Nothing but soft whimpers rolling off Otabek’s parted lips, eyes shut tightly and hands fisted in the covers, echoing louder at every tiny flick of Yuri’s tongue on his shivering skin, lapping on his nipples and following the lines of his muscles, a sweet fever wherever Yuri’s kisses have touched.

Otabek flinches by the time Yuri brushes against his hip bones, shooting slightly off the mattress. There’s a smirk on the blond’s face and a fire beneath the green gaze that consumes him in a second: Yuri’s in a mood to hunt and Otabek is more than willing to be the deer under his teeth. To feel himself be embraced by Yuri’s eagerness, by his desire. The soft nibbles travel south and Otabek lets out a whimper from between bitten lips, a tone too high for his taste; his back arches automatically and he turns his head to the pillow to muffle the sound.

They’re not alone. This is not a club filled with too loud music and strangers and doorsteps no one ever crosses--this is _Viktor’s home_. This is bigger, this is personal; Otabek couldn’t possibly explain himself to the married couple. He wouldn’t dare.

Yet Yuri is relentless. “No, Beka.” He shuffles forward to grab a fistful of Otabek’s hair to be able to look him in the eye. “Anything I want, right?” He kisses Otabek softly only to bite his bottom lip as he moves back; it tastes like salt and lust and that tinge of cinnamon from dessert still lingering on his breath. “I want you, all of you. Don’t cover up.” He licks Otabek’s mouth and stands close enough for Otabek to wonder whether they’re actually kissing or not. “I want to see you. I want to _hear you._ ”

“Walls are thin, Yura.” Otabek’s voice sound more like a shaky plea than an actual scolding, no matter what his intentions were. His mind is clouded with the memory of Yuri around him, inside of him… He knows he won’t put up a fight: he knows he doesn’t really want to.

Otabek was never quite good at taking the decent path.  

Yuri reaches out to take Otabek’s lobe in his mouth, gnawing softly and releasing it with a moist sound. “I don’t give a fuck. Let them hear.”

A shiver runs down Otabek’s spine; he groans in complaint yet still grins, pushing himself back onto the bed for Yuri to move sink back down. Yuri’s mouth falls onto the tip of Otabek’s cock; Otabek clenches his teeth and spreads his legs wider, moaning loud enough for Yuri to chuckle no matter how hard he tries to stop himself.

“That’s more like it,” Yuri murmurs. His face is close enough that his lips brush Otabek’s sensitive skin with each word,. Yuri presses his tongue flat against Otabek’s skin and flicks it slowly, tracing a path from the head to the base of his dick. Otabek grunts, one hand fisted on the covers and the other digging into his own leg, as if that would stop his hips from bucking upwards to give Yuri more room.

Otabek feels as if his whole skin electric, buzzing at the faintest contact with the cotton sheets underneath him, responding to every touch of Yuri’s fingertips running roughly along him as fingernails trail up his torso. He shifts up to pull a pillow from behind his head, allowing Yuri to position his crotch right against Otabek’s ass. Yuri presses harder, his erection twitching through the fabric, and Otabek arches his back, gasping loudly. It’s like being drunk: the world suddenly filling with sensations he wouldn’t notice otherwise. The quality of the sheets, starting dampen with his own sweat, the callouses on Yuri’s hands from the ice, imprinted on almost every corner of his body. The usually-so-practical leggings, now just a fucking inconvenience.

“Yura...” Otabek says, or at least he thinks so: his own voice seems to come from far away, jagged and breathy and so thirsty. He can sense Yuri towering over him, his hot breath against Otabek’s nose.

“Are you gonna tell me to stop now? You always can,” Yuri offers, a hint of a laugh colouring his tone. He knows Otabek won’t tell him to stop, he can see it. Fuck, Otabek’s so focused on Yuri he can even see himself reflected in the blond’s gaze, all flushed and sweaty and begging for more. Still, Yuri insists, just in case. “Just stop me, Beka.”

Yuri leans closer. Some strands of blond hair fall on Otabek’s shoulder: he reacts quickly and twists them in his fist, pushing Yuri’s face right against his. “Yura, why the fuck are you still dressed?”

Yuri just laughs. He takes Otabek’s hand in his to disentangle it from his hair and pushes himself up. All the way up. Otabek just stares as Yuri stands on the bed in between his legs, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his leggings. The outline of Yuri’s cock is so clearly visible through the thin garment Otabek can’t help but to lick his lips in anticipation.

He gawks as Yuri sways his hips slightly, the pants slowly uncovering the sharp lines of his hip bones, the curve of his ass, the pale skin… Otabek swears under his breath and realizes it was too loud the moment Yuri’s grin turns smug; the tease is not wearing underwear. Otabek clenches his hands at his thighs and his hips thrust forward as Yuri dances again, slowly releasing himself from his leggings, already damped with precum. He responds instantly to Yuri’s cock jerking out of the tight pants, licking his lips, the tip of his tongue curving slightly upwards as an invitation. Yuri eyes him curiously, his hand brushing softly from his perineum to the tip of his cock and around.

Otabek wants to speak up, to ask for it, to feel Yuri inside of him, to taste him… Still, the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a lewd, thin whimper as Yuri’s dick twitches in his own hand. Yuri smirks and takes a step forward to sink down, one knee at each side of Otabek’s head. He lets a hand thread softly through his hair while the other one just keeps caressing his length so painfully close to Otabek’s mouth he feels tempted to close the gap between them.

“Do you want me that much, Beka?” Yuri smiles as Otabek barely brushes the tip of his tongue against Yuri's cock, flicking at the tip. Yuri shudders and moans but still pulls away, grabbing Otabek by his chin and trapping his lips with Yuri's own. “Not today. All I want today,” Yuri says when he pulls away, “is _you_.”

Yuri stands and falls to his knees in between Otabek’s legs. Otabek's hips buck forward and Yuri smirks, licking his lips before enveloping them around the tip of Otabek's cock. He hollows his cheeks to suck hard and lets go with a lewd sound, only obscured by the groaned “Yura” Otabek breathes out. There’s tremor prickling on Otabek's skin as Yuri chuckles against it. A rush of static climbs his body like a thunderbolt, and Otabek can only trap his lip in between his teeth and hope his voice isn’t bouncing off the walls of the room the same way it is in his ears. He can’t hear anything but the sound of Yuri sucking on his tip, pulling out to lap at his length and slowly moving down. Anything but his own voice is muffled as Otabek quivers at the feather-like touch of Yuri's tongue around his rim.

There's hardly anything Otabek hasn't done yet, willing or not, and this is no exception. Still, he can’t remember feeling so overwhelmed so quickly. His legs struggle between spreading wider and closing up on Yuri at every flick of his tongue, every caress of his fingers around Otabek's dripping cock. His hand threads in Yuri’s golden locks to grip hard. Yuri moans against him; Otabek thrusts his hips up and against Yuri eagerly taking all of him in. A high pitched whimper escapes his lips as he pushes his free hand against his mouth, biting hard on the heel to stop the pathetic noises coming out of him.

The tightness in his gut spreads; a fire consuming him, taking him apart, so close to coming undone under Yuri's ministrations…

Until Yuri pulls away, towering over him.

“What do you think you're doing?” Yuri scolds him, smirking at him. He pulls Otabek's hands away to trap them in one of his own over his head, as the other one traces patterns lazily across his chest. “If you cover yourself again...” Yuri licks his lips as Otabek gasps, lost in his deep green stare fixed completely on him. Yuri presses two fingers against Otabek's lips and he obliges, rolling his tongue around them, dragging his piercing around Yuri's knuckles, sucking them whole.

Yuri groans, a smile flashing on his face. He reaches down to bite Otabek's neck, making him flinch. “Misbehave again and I'll have to make you cry out louder,” he whispers into Otabek’s ear and bites a deep red mark onto his neck. Otabek gasps and tries to defend himself, to make some witty comment about Yuri's sudden courage. All that comes out of his mouth are jagged breaths and stuttered attempts at speaking. His brain doesn't quite connect with his mouth through all the chaos shaking his senses off track.

“What was that again?” Yuri turns to him, his pupils blown wide, keeping the hungry smile like a promise. “Talk to me, love.”

Otabek can feel Yuri’s moist fingertips brushing around the tip of his cock, playing with the droplets of precum before they move down and rub gently against his hole. He bucks his hips forward but Yuri pulls back. He's teasing Otabek. And he's damn good at it. Otabek wants to play tough but only needy moans come out of him as he begs for more.

He can't even figure out when his whimper becomes something close to actual words. “Say that again,” Yuri orders, trapping Otabek’s lips with his own, pulling apart the second Otabek returns the kiss hungrily. “Again, and I might listen.”

Otabek would take Yuri down onto the mattress and ride his cock if he could. He would pull off and let Yuri come all over himself just to clean their mess with his tongue. And then Otabek would taste Yuri and tease him until the whole neighbourhood can hear Otabek's name on Yuri’s lips. But he can't manage to move, even though Yuri's not pinning him down anymore. Otabek’s whole body trembles, reacting at the slightest touch. “Please..” He presses his eyes shut to control himself but Yuri disapproves. He punishes Otabek by letting a finger slip inside him, curving to rub his prostate mercilessly.

“Again.” Yuri holds Otabek down with one hand pressed on his chest, kneeling between his legs and staring down at him. His pupils are blown wide and a his mouth curved into a smile that looks more like a threat. He leans in to rub his length against Otabek’s and makes him moan through closed lips again. “Say you want me, Beka.”

Yuri pulls his fingers out almost all the way and thrusts back in. Otabek gasps and clenches around him, his cock twitching to compensate for the reply he’s incapable of giving. All that comes out of his mouth are curses and moans and Yuri’s name over and over.

“Do you?” Yuri purrs as he pushes in again, adding one more finger and moaning softly as he savours Otabek’s reactions. Otabek raises his back off the mattress, hands gripping tightly onto the pillow above his head and _roars._ It’s like a thunderstorm inside his head. He can’t hear a thing, his whole body is numb yet buzzing with sensation at the same time, sudden flashes of light passing behind his closed eyelids every time Yuri moves. Yuri whispers at his ear, while his hand draws patterns with the cum on Otabek’s stomach. “Do you still want me, love? ‘Cause I still want you.”

Otabek is exhausted, ecstatic: his mind shut down long ago and the only thing left is his own desire to have Yuri to himself, to drown in him. It’s nothing like the things he did when he was a kid: he knows he can let his guard down, he knows he’s safe. And he’s not running away; this is what he wants: to stare into lust-hazed emerald eyes and see himself in them, to hear his own name purred to him, to be caressed and kissed and fucked so… so unlike before.

 _This_ is what he wants. He wants Yuri. On top of him just like this, breathing close to Otabek’s face and still not touching him. He wants to feel the hot touch of Yuri’s cock rubbing against the mess on his skin.

 _I still want you._ “Anything you want.” It was meant to be a green light and it sounded like a prayer. Otabek still won’t take it back.

“Then,” Yuri moves to his side to offer Otabek a hand, ”get up.”

Otabek takes his hand to kneel on the bed on wobbly legs, brushing his fingers against Yuri's skin, which is warm to the touch. He gets pulled down on Yuri, straddling him as Yuri sits with his back resting on the headboard. Yuri giggles so beautifully Otabek can't stop himself from kissing his lips softly, his face, the tip of his nose, which makes him laugh harder.

“You're so beautiful, Yura,” he breathes out and Yuri pulls his arms around Otabek's waist, pouting.

“Hey, that's _my_ line,” Yuri whines, his plump lip twitching a little upwards as he positions himself against Otabek's entrance. “I can never take my eyes off you, you're mesmerising.”

Otabek wants to correct him, completely lost in the way he licks his lips while staring; but Yuri's hands on his hips distract him. They shift down to cup his ass and Yuri pushes Otabek down onto his dick. It causes Otabek's mind to go blank and he gasps as Yuri pulls him back up.

“Were you about to say something, Beka?” Yuri purrs, trying to maintain control, his voice an octave too low for it to be believable.

“That's foul play.” Otabek quivers and waits until Yuri smirks again. Two can play this game.

“You're no bet- ah fuck, Beka!” Yuri groans as Otabek drops himself all the way down, tilting his head back and biting down a growl. “Cheater.”

“I guess we belong together,” Otabek replies in a murmur, gaze heavy and fixed on that little hairpin twist of Yuri's mouth. He rests his hands against the headboard at both sides of Yuri's head and lets their foreheads touch, staring deep into Yuri's eyes.

He's had wild nights before, lustful, all consuming. This isn't like that: this is so much more. Otabek is used to feeling empty under another’s touch, as though he is being pulled into a silent abyss.  He feels like drowning in Yuri's body. A riot of lights and fire and the embrace of his words, of his gaze, denying the voices in Otabek's head. As long as Yuri looks at him so fondly, they won't speak until their bodies are joined together once more.

There's a rumble on the other side of the wall, a muffled echo of a conversation, and Otabek suddenly tenses up. Yuri holds his hip to guide him back and forth, grinding against him. Otabek hides in the crook of Yuri's neck, gnawing at the pale skin to stop himself from moaning too loudly, his voice growing higher with every thrust.

“Beka,” Yuri whines and takes Otabek's chin in one hand, gently caressing his jawline with his thumb, making him look up. “Don't do that, let me see you.” He bucks up, rubbing against Otabek's prostate, and Otabek no longer has any way to silence himself. He moans and whimpers as Yuri whispers lovingly into his ear. “Let me hear you.”

Another violent thrust and Otabek cries out, his body shocked by waves of pleasure every time Yuri moves and twitches inside of him. “You're too wonderful to be so shy, Beka.”

“It's n-ngh…” Otabek tries to speak but Yuri cuts him short, rocking against him. “They’re-” _They're right on the other side,_ he means to say,he is less and less worried about being heard  as he sinks into the sensation of Yuri's feverish skin against his own, slick with sweat. His cock, trapped in between the both of them and dripping against Yuri's stomach, pulses desperately for attention. “Please, Yura,” he begs, lowering his hands only to be stopped by Yuri when he reaches the blond’s shoulders.

“No, Beka. I want all of you.” Yuri pulls Otabek's hands back against the headboard forcefully. “I'll be the one to make you come.”

“Then do it.” Otabek lifts himself up to fall back down onto Yuri’s lap and Yuri lets out a little gasp. A need pools in his gut and Otabek craves release. He knows he can’t hold it back for much longer. He knows Yuri’s calmness is just a façade, already starting to crack around the edges. “Please…”

“You’re so pretty when you beg for me,” Yuri smiles, barely rocking back and forth, sending jolts up Otabek’s spine who can only lean his head on Yuri’s shoulder, whimpering louder, his breath jagged and warm against Yuri’s skin. “Look at me, love.”

Otabek lifts up his gaze and kisses him deeply, drowning a growl in between Yuri’s lips. He holds their foreheads together to miss not one little expression on Yuri’s face. “I won’t let you hide this time. I want to see every little thing you do.” Yuri barely brushes his lips against Otabek to pull back off, and slides his hands under Otabek’s ass to hold him in place, hovering over the tip of his cock. “Don’t hold back.”

He waits for Otabek to nod before thrusting up into him violently, biting his lips to stop himself from closing his eyes and lose the sight before him.  Otabek’s skin is glistening with sweat, thighs tensing up in his grip as Otabek comes. His seed stretches in between their bodies as Yuri pulls apart just for a second to admire his handiwork.

Otabek is ecstatic, completely out of it. His vision is blurry and his fingers prickling as Yuri runs a hand along the creases of his chest, murmuring sweet nothings while he licks off Otabek’s cum where it is webbed in between his fingers.

He can’t bring himself to say out loud how mesmerizing the sight is before Yuri pulls him violently down again, one hand grasping hard on his thigh and one clenching at his waist. It makes him roll his eyes to the back of his head in delight. He's not even certain there's any sound coming out of his mouth- his throat is too raspy and his ears are buzzing. Otabek feels Yuri twitch, riding the last waves of his orgasm, and grips his shoulders for support as Yuri relaxes underneath him. He smiles, lazily, locks of golden hair clinging to his damp forehead. The guy works magic: even while disheveled and sweaty and out of breath, he still looks otherworldly.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” he whispers and Otabek just has to chuckle. He can feel the breeze cooling down his back, making him shiver. His long dark hair threatens to fall into his eyes as he brushes it back with his fingers, still sticking to his shoulder and full of knots. He looks down at the traces of cum on his skin.

“I’m a mess, Yura.”

“That you are,” Yuri laughs, “You're a beautiful mess. Breathtaking.”

“Out of breath, you mean,” Otabek replies, his voice feeling anything but his own. Has he really been that loud?

“Yes, and sweaty and exhausted and smiling like a goon. You're a fucking vision, Beka.” Yuri's eyes glisten and Otabek feels a knot in his chest. He's been called a good number of things, half of them he wouldn't even dare repeat. Beautiful has never been one of them.

He knows Yuri is not to blame: it's not his burden to carry,but Otabek can't stop the words from escaping his mouth in a thready voice. “Funny. That's not what _they_ used to say.”

“That's because they didn’t know shit. You're precious, Beka.” Yuri takes Otabek's face in his hands, fingers caressing the strands of hair that refuse to stay back. He speaks again before Otabek has a chance to protest. “You're wonderful and not even all the shit they've done to you can obscure that.” He kisses him so softly Otabek can barely tell they're touching. He loses himself in the warmth of Yuri's body around him. “You're everything to me, Beka. I won't let you believe otherwise.”

“I love you.” Otabek blurts the words out in a raspy murmur. “I love you so much, Yura.” He repeats just to be sure, leaning in to cover Yuri's face in little kisses. “I love you.”  Otabek’s voice starts quivering: he tell himself it' exhaustion, despite the telltale warm trails running down across his cheeks.

“Are you-? Beka, you sap,” Yuri laughs and kisses him hard, savouring Otabek’s muffled chuckle. He's not ashamed of his weakness to Yuri's sweet words, no matter how much Yuri likes to call him out on it. “Fuck, you're adorable.” Yuri washes off the tears reaching Otabek’s jawline with his thumbs. “I _do_ love you, you cheesy idiot. I do, so much.”

Otabek has his doubts, he always does. It's stupid and he knows he has no reason whatsoever, but they are stronger than he is. After every morning selfie, he still wonders how someone so beautiful, so strong, and so kind could have chosen _him_ out of everyone out there. He remembers the years he dreamed of this, of being cradled in Yuri's arms, whispering sweet nonsense into his ear, too overwhelmed to care. Some days it feels like he'll wake up and it'll all turn out to be just a beautiful fantasy of his, nothing more. Some days Otabek sends a silly text or two just to be sure.

But nights like these he feels invincible. Not even the whole world can stop him when Yuri is at his side. He has lifted himself from the mud. Otabek is a world medalist with the man of his dreams at his side- fuck the things they had said to him over the years. If those cruel words had not stopped  him before, nothing will now.

Otabek is finally happy. Yuri's laughter lights him up like Christmas lights and he joins the boy, even through the tears.

He could never ask for more than this.


	2. Chapter 2

Otabek has never been good at mornings. 

Especially ones like these, when he tries to stretch out his arms and finds a curled up Yuri at his side. The boy’s hair is messy and his skin glistening with sweat from the unbearable summer weather. So incredibly beautiful. So peaceful, as if the oncoming competitions were still too far off, their rigorous training a memory lost in time. As if they have more than a few days for each other.

Yuri stirs in his embrace and Otabek shakes the feeling off. Be it a couple of weeks, or the rest of his life, or just a few fucking minutes, he’s got Yuri with him now. It’s all that matters. He needs to make it count. 

“Beka, You’re staring.” Yuri only opens one eye to look back at him, the hand behind his head trying to move his hair out of the way while the other holds his grip on Otabek’s waist firmly. 

“It’s hard not to stare,” Otabek starts and Yuri snorts. He gently pulls Yuri’s hand off his waist to sit up, leaning on his arm, just to have a better look at him. Yuri lies on his stomach, refusing to get up from his pillow. The strands of gold trace down his spine and the curve of his ass is accentuated by the way his knees fold underneath him. Otabek can’t be blamed: anyone would lose track of time gawking at such a vision, to the point of forgetting what they were about to say, too. 

That’s until said vision displays his best mischievous grin. “Fine, then. Stare,” Yuri says, and props himself up on all fours to turn his back to Otabek, arching his spine while he rummages around the mess of clothing at the side of the bed. Otabek is about to reach out, to jump on his prey when Yuri looks at him over his shoulder. “No cheating, Beka.” Otabek freezes as Yuri laughs at him. “No touching. Just look. And don’t take your eyes off me. That’s not allowed, either.” Otabek scoffs; it’s definitely  _ not _ what he meant, but he doesn’t mind getting to watch either, even when his hands fidget nervously on the covers.

Yuri turns back to face him, the folds of the comforter hiding whatever he’s got in his hand. Otabek can catch a glimpse of something with an animal print and he can already imagine what Yuri has in mind. Still, he has to ask. “Yura, what are-?”

“Shush. Just look at me, Beka,” he says calmly, resting his elbows on the mattress, phone in hand, to smile at the screen. Is he taking pictures? Or is he-? 

“Show me.” He lifts his gaze to Otabek and earns himself a knowing smirk. “Show me how much you’re liking what you see. Slowly.” He lowers his shoulders to curve his back up and spreads his legs further apart. “And I’ll let you know how much I wanna see you.  _ All of you. _ ”

They’ve video called each other hundreds of times, or at least it felt like they had. They’ve sent each other photos that could wreak havoc in the press, the kinds of photos that would make even Giacometti blush. And Otabek’s never thought twice  about it: he needed to know, to  _ see  _ Yuri was just as anxious to meet again as he was.  It rapidly became part of their routine . 

But Yuri wasn’t staring at him when he took those pictures, not like this. He wasn’t  _ guiding him _ through it, especially not when the others were waiting for them, right at the other side of the door.

Otabek has had Yuri wish him goodnight, half-asleep, all fluttery eyelids and starry eyes. He’s had Yuri lustful and impatient, begging for him, no more than a pixelated image on a screen, on display and moaning his name through the earphones. Neither was quite like this: the intense deep green gaze fixated on Otabek’s every gesture, his left hand holding the phone in front of him to keep his right hand free. It feels like performing-it’s exciting for Otabek to be the star, to have all of Yuri to himself and focused on the way Otabek is kneeling, hands on his thighs, the sheet slowly sliding down. 

Otabek pushes it completely down, one hand limp behind his back, the other on his inner thigh and reaching higher, his skin prickling at the soft touch. Yuri bites his lip, his free hand anxiously gripping the covers.

He wants Otabek: Yuri is drinking in every twitch and shiver the camera might fail to catch. Otabek feels the penetrating stare burning into his skin like embers. the cold gaze of the lens shakes slightly in Yuri’s grip as soon as Otabek’s fingers brush delicately around his crotch to run up gently, caressing the tip of his rapidly hardening cock. 

Yuri gasps and leans forward, waiting for something to happen. Otabek can see the desire in his eyes, but doesn’t give in. His fingers move slowly, and he only smiles when Yuri whines out of frustration. “What is it, kitten? Too impatient? You did say ‘slowly’,” Otabek jokes and Yuri growls at him.

“You’re toying with me, Beka?”

“You’ve had your fun, haven’t you?” Otabek smirks and spreads his legs wider to run his fingertips from the tip of his cock down in a straight line to his perineum, letting his head drop slightly back as he gasps. The pleasure spreads all over his body in waves as Yuri whimpers and squirms, his hand shooting back in between his legs and his ass reaching higher to offer more room to move. It’s inebriating, to have Yuri losing his composure step by step, muttering under his breath and unable to keep his hands off himself just by watching Otabek.

And Otabek could get used to this.

He runs his hand in circles around his cock, watching carefully how Yuri shudders and gasps, hips thrusting softly into his hand. The phone tilts, about to slip out of his hand, but Yuri moans a curse and tightens his grip around the device. Otabek chuckles, pumping slowly, savouring the shivers running down his spine at every touch. 

He decides to change the game. Otabek smirks and leans back on his free hand to expose himself to the camera, fingertips playing with the droplets of precum already glistening on the head of his dick, readying himself to go further down…

“Yurio!” There's a cheerful screech on the other side of the door and Otabek’s hand falls limp. It can’t be fucking serious. 

“Yurio, Otabek, breakfast’s ready! Get up, get up, get up!” Nikiforov nags at their door, and Yuri groans, burying his head into the pillow. 

“You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” he mutters, glaring at the door. 

Otabek can’t help but drop onto his back on the mattress, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. They can’t possibly  _ not _ know what was going on in that room. Otabek is positive they were listening the night before.: he has a faint memory of shuffling and muffled voices on the other side of the wall, almost as if the other couple was analyzing every sound. 

Viktor calls their names again and Yuri sits up in a huff. “We’re coming, geezer, shut it!” His frown deepens when he looks at Otabek, still amused and kneeling back on the bed. “It’s not  _ that _ funny!” 

Otabek just leans forward, a playful smile still on his lips. “Raincheck?” he whispers so close to Yuri they’re almost kissing, but he pulls back the moment Yuri tries to close the gap, kissing his forehead instead. 

Yuri whines and hides against the bed as Otabek gets up to dress. “I’m gonna kick that idiot back to Saint fucking Petersburg,” he mumbles, and Otabek chuckles. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going for a bite first,” Otabek replies, eyes fixed on his drawers as he rummages for something to wear. He hears Yuri’s lazy steps behind him but doesn’t turn. “We’re gonna have quite a busy day, anyways.” He smiles to himself as he feels Yuri’s weight pressed to his back, Yuri’s head on his shoulder and arms falling limp at his sides. “As soon as they leave us alone.”

“I’ll hold you up to that one,” Yuri purrs against his ear. He wraps his arms around Otabek’s waist. “Hey, Beka?”

“Mh?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Yuri whispers against his neck. Otabek clasps his hands around Yuri’s, caressing him. “You’re beautiful and mine and I love you.”

Otabek feels a knot in his chest tightening, and he breathes deeply to try and get some air into his lungs. There’s something about the way Yuri says it every time, rash and casually as if he was talking about the weather. As if it were something Otabek could get used to. As if he should have no doubt. There’s something still so unreal about having Yuri draped over him whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

Otabek smiles. As much of a naive dream as it might be, it’s still real enough to him. Yuri’s really there for him. “I am yours.” And despìte everything, he’s willing to stay. “And I love you.”

Suddenly having the couple waiting for them outside their bedroom doesn’t feel so important anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

They walk up to the dining room to find a really clingy Viktor draped all over Katsuki, praising his cooking, and a huge arrangement of dishes all over the table. 

One thing’s for sure: Katsuki’s put some effort into making them feel welcome. 

“Oh, boys, good morning!” Katsuki slips out of his husband’s embrace to get up and urge his guests to take a seat. “No coffee, right, Otabek? Is green tea okay?”

“... Yeah.”  _ There’s really no need, _ Otabek means to say, but can’t find a way for it to not sound disrespectful. He allows Katsuki to pour the tea for him, thanking him afterwards. Yuri, on the other hand, rejects him before he even gets a chance to ask (“Just sit already, pig, you’ve done enough.”) and prepares his cup of coffee himself. No creamer, no sugar: straight black. Otabek winces as Yuri takes a sip, forgetting all about the curious stares he gets from the other side of the table. 

“You two are adorable! So cute,” Viktor coos, his mouth set in a heart-shaped smile yet a mischievous gleam peeking in his eyes. The guy is to be loud, and nosy, and straight up ridiculous, but he’s not as terrible as Yuri said he’d be the day they got invited to the cabin.

And it didn’t matter, really. There was nothing Nikiforov could do that was cringey enough to make Otabek refuse the invitation. They called this a “family vacation”, but Otabek saw only the opportunity to spend a couple of weeks near Yuri again. That was enough to make him ignore any of his hosts’ quirks. 

He can endure anything for Yuri. Even the company of Viktor nosy-as-fuck Nikiforov.

“So cute, it’s like you can’t get enough of each other,” Viktor adds casually over his coffee and Otabek’s grip tightens around his mug. No one seems to notice, yet Yuri lowers his hand to Otabek’s thigh and squeezes gently. They both know where Viktor’s going. “It certainly sounded like it last night.”

“Are you really gonna preach to me right now?  _ You?? _ ” Yuri’s sounds irritated, angry, but the hand on his leg tells Otabek differently. He just sips on his tea, trying to stay as far away from the spotlight as possible, even though he knows there’s no point in trying. 

“Well, I’m sorry but someone has to-”

“Vitya!” Katsuki jumps up from his seat to press his hands onto his husband’s shoulders, smiling too stiff to make it feel sincere. “ _ We’ve talked about this.” _

“Talked about what?” Yuri cuts him off and Otabek runs his fingertips softly against the back of Yuri’s hand on his leg, to try and soften the death grip the blond has got on him. It doesn’t quite work. 

“Yuri, would you mind helping me out in the kitchen?” Katsuki adds, with a not too subtle nod of his head. They’ve been planning this, haven’t they? To have a talk with Otabek where Yuri can’t jump in to defend him.

Otabek didn’t even consider of the possibility,  didn’t  stop to consider why they would invite  _ him _ . Sure, he’s their protegè’s boyfriend, but things have never been too far from awkward when they’re together. Of course they had to have an ulterior motive:  _ they’ve talked about it. _

“If you’re scheming something I swear on your fucking dead body, piggy-” Yuri says, positively seething, his fingernails digging into Otabek’s flesh. 

“Please? “ Katsuki insists innocently, a plea in his voice. “I could really use the help.” 

Yuri tur ns to look at Otabek, as if asking for reassurance, and Otabek squeezes his hand under the table. Whatever happens, it was bound to happen sooner or later. He owes Yuri a peaceful vacation for once- it’s time to move on with this. This is his moment to stand tall instead of hiding behind Yuri, fearful of screwing up again. Of pushing Yuri away. 

“Fine,” Yuri sighs. “But I’ll be watching you, old man.” He points at Viktor who only smiles at him, sipping on his coffee. Katsuki leads him to the kitchen, stealing a glance back from time to time on their way and finally disappearing behind the closed door, . 

Viktor doesn’t break the silence until the door is closed shut. “I understand you have your… story, so to speak.” He takes his time choosing his words carefully. Otabek knows the man’s intentions aren’t half as polite as his speech is. 

“Yes, sir.” He still refuses to confess more than he has to.

“As tumultuous as it is, it still means something. You’ve been… around.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve done your share of.. Stuff.”

“Yes, sir.” This is a long introduction for such a simple point. Otabek’s tempted to get up and just leave the man babbling on his own. He settles for drinking his tea to keep his hands busy.

“You understand that our Yuri  _ hasn’t.  _ He’s still too young and naive and there’s a lot to-”

“I understand.” Viktor allows Otabek to stop him mid-sentence, still frowning at the interruption. And Otabek does understand: Yuri has never had a partner before and is learning every little thing along the way. Frankly, Otabek is too: he’s never had something that even felt like a relationship before. Certainly not something that made him feel this joyful. 

But Yuri is far from naive. He is exactly where he wants to be, on his own terms. Still, Nikiforov makes it sound like Otabek is tricking Yuri to stay by his side. Take advantage of him.

Otabek trying not to be offended, but Viktor just keeps on pushing. “Not that I have anything against you. How could I? He’s the sweetest thing around you: he barely even yells at people. But he’s quite impressionable, you see, and I just don’t want him getting hurt. And it just happens that you’re-”

“Listen,  _ Viktor _ .” The man flinches at the stern tone in Otabek’s voice, the name burning like poison rolling out his tongue. He never calls Viktor by his first name, but Otabek knows how that sentence was going to end and he won’t tolerate it.  He wouldn't have Viktor say that he only had illusions to offer Yuri.

Yuri has taught him that he doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. 

“You’re scared, I get it. You care for Yuri and don’t want him hurt,” Otabek says. “But  _ neither do I _ . I love him, Viktor; that means something. I would never mistreat him in any way. This is not a charade, and I’ll defend it,  _ us _ , from anyone. Even from you if I have to.” Otabek’s blood is boiling, his hands forming fists around the porcelain of the cup before relaxing again. He’s doing his best to keep his composure but it almost feels like Nikiforov is doing all of this on purpose. As though he’s trying to prove a point and to make Otabek look dangerous. Otabek refuses to play his game. 

Or maybe Viktor actually thinks he  _ is  _ dangerous _. _ From the way he hesitates before answering, a finger pressed firmly against his lips, it’s not such a crazy idea. “It’s not that-” He cuts himself short only to stare at Otabek, examining him. 

There’s a faint gasp and some unintelligible yelling from the other side of the door but Otabek is too focused on what’s Viktor’s next move will be to try and eavesdrop on Yuri’s conversation. It takes a minute, but Viktor finally abandons his coffee to lean back against his chair, satisfied. He lets out a long breath. “I believe you. That kind of spirit -of  _ strength _ , it just has to be love. The world knows I’d do anything for my Yuuri and I’m sure you’d do the same for yours…” 

Otabek lets out a breath he didn’t even notice he was holding, and the mug trembles slightly as the tight grip of his hands loosen up, arms falling limp into his lap. He’d argue for days that Nikiforov’s impression of him doesn’t matter, that he needs no one’s blessing. That he’s just fine being the stray dog taking their golden kid away from home. That he doesn’t care about the side glances and hushed comments whispered behind his back. But he doesn’t have to argue any more:Viktor’s smile is not as poisonous as before. Instead it’s open, sincere. For a change. 

Otabek should have done this a long time ago. He’d kick himself for being such a foolish coward if he could. 

Yet, he had some reason to be suspicious He knows as soon as Viktor speaks again. “But - pardon me for saying it- the  _ noises _ last night. Those didn’t sound as loving,” the man says with a cheeky grin and Otabek has to restrain himself from banging his head against the table. 

He knew it, he knew they were listening. Fuck. He’d love to have Dasha’s courage, to brag or to mock, anything to make that shit eating grin falter. Yet his mind is blank, and his hands are clutching the fabric of his pants tightly, as if he’s holding himself back from getting up and running away. 

“Are you -?” Otabek tries, unsure. He knows Yuri must be eavesdropping on the conversation as much as he can, and it’s a dirty trick to hide behind him once again, but at least Yuri would know how to handle it. Viktor’s fucking childlike curiosity can be complicated to deal with more often than not, and Otabek has learnt to ignore it. But he can’t do such a thing right now, so he opts for raising his voice slightly. “Are you seriously asking me about your protegè’s love life right now?” 

There’s a screeched “Viktor!” coming from the kitchen, then a door slams closed as Yuri rapidly approached to lean on the table, an accusing finger pointed at Viktor mere centimeters away from his face. “What the hell, you perv? I knew you were sick but this is a whole new fucking level!”

Katsuki follows the blond desperately to almost trip over his husband, palms clasped around his shoulders for support. “He didn’t mean that - whatever it was, Otabek! I’m so sorry-”

“But I did! Yuuri,” Viktor whines almost musically and Yuri rolls his eyes; he’s trying to get out of trouble in the most childish way possible. It’d be amusing if it wasn’t Otabek’s neck that was on the line. “You know I just  _ have _ to say something, our Yurio was being a bit too-” 

“Viktor, no!” Katuski cuts him short, tightening his grip as Yuri and Otabek just look at each other, confused. Yuri’s about to snap back but his eyes widen when Katsuki stutters the words. “It’s not - he wasn’t - we got it wrong, he didn’t-” 

They both freeze in place, watching how Viktor’s lips quirk into that damn heart shaped smile. He has to be fucking kidding. “Oh my god… was that you, Otabek?” he  _ coos _ . He looks at Otabek as if he were a little puppy that had just learned a new trick and Otabek’s face twists in disgust. Fuck appearances, this is too much for him to bear. “Do you really moan like that? That’s so cute!”  Viktor practically singsongs and Yuri’s jaw drops. 

Otabek would do the exact same thing if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s blushing about twenty shades of red. He can only clench his teeth, unable to react in any other way. He’d climb up on the table and bust Viktor’s face against it, curse at him in any way imaginable, in four different languages,if only Viktor had been someone else. 

Yuri would. Yuri looks about to, fists shaking at his sides, pressed so tightly his fingernails must be digging deep into his palm. 

Otabek storms off without a word, still listening to Viktor swooning over  _ him _ and Katsuki trying to shut his husband up. He hears footsteps behind him but doesn’t slow down. Instead he breaks into a run, not stopping until he reaches the railings separating the street to the beach. He leans on them to look at the waves licking the pale sand, golden locks twirling in the wind besides him, a new added weight on the bar he’s leaning onto. 

He’s still awed by the immensity of the sea, swaying softly with every retreating wave.  A light blue patch stretching as far as his eyes can see crawls into an almost white shore only to push back out, leaving nothing at its step. Washing it all away so easily. It reminds him of Vancouver, of the night he let the sea, much darker then, swirl around his ankles, washing off the dirt in his steps, in his mind. 

Today it doesn’t do as much, but Otabek doesn’t need it to. Embarrassing and silly as it is, he has nothing to be ashamed of, not really. But he’s still put off by the whole scene, unable to look directly at Yuri. 

“Hey, Beka…” Yuri starts, reaching a hand out to his shoulder only to drop it before he can touch him. “I’ll kick that idiot’s ass as soon as we’re back. I can’t believe he’d say something  _ like that _ . What a fucking creep,” he adds in a huff, his anger unveiled. He’s really irritated, and with good reason, yet Otabek feels… strange. 

It is awkward, and completely out of place- he knows that much. He should be ashamed, maybe furious. Viktor was laughing at him, for fuck’s sake. Or worse, maybe Viktor was just being honest, which makes it all so much weirder. There’s a whirlwind of emotions inside of him, and Otabek doesn’t know how to react. He does nothing but stare at the sea, hoping it can rearrange his thoughts. He knows Yuri is still trying to apologize by describing really creative ways to punish Viktor but Otabek hears it only as background noise, his head completely elsewhere. 

It’s stupid: Viktor wanted to make sure Otabek wasn’t actually  _ hurting  _ Yuri by examining every noise that sneaked into his room through the wall alongside his husband. Yet when the voice that was begging turned out to be Otabek’s, Viktor found it  _ adorable. _ Who the hell listens to people fucking and calls it adorable? He’s been called a lot of things, truly, but that…

He notices only through Yuri’s curious irritation, deep in thought as he was. “Are you laughing? What the fuck are you laughing about, moron?” Otabek feels the answering chuckle ring in his ear and tremble within his chest. It’s so ridiculous, all of it, so unbelievable. So fucking silly. 

It’s stronger than him: he bends over the railing, laughing like he hasn’t in days, his entire body shaking, hands clenched tight so he won’t fall and tears starting to appear at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know, I just-” 

Otabek can’t finish the sentence before the giggling takes hold of him again, his chest starting to hurt from the effort. “Who the fuck-?” He tries again, “Who the fuck listens to someone, someone-” He takes a deep breath, grinning like an idiot but trying to catch his breath, “and calls it  _ adorable?” _

“He’s weird as fuck, I know-”

“Am I adorable, Yura?” Otabek turns to Yuri, amused, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. “Do I sound adorable when-”

“You’re the sexiest motherfucker I’ve ever met.” Yuri doesn’t even take a moment to think about it, startling Otabek. That green gaze is fixed on him, travelling from Otabek’s eyes to his lips, all the way down and back again, as if Yuri was imprinting an image into his mind so he would never forget this moment. “I could just record you moaning my name and play it in bed so I can sleep with you begging for my cock every night.”

Otabek can see Yuri’s hand fidgeting against the railing, but there’s a fierce determination on his face. He’s shy and overwhelmed but he’s trying hard to hide it. He takes a step forward and closes the gap between them to a mere inch or two, his breath falling onto his nose, warm and strong with the smell of coffee. Neither of them try to reach the other; Otabek slowly slips his hands to his back, a smug smirk daring Yuri to make the move. 

“I could film you coming to the sound of my voice telling you exactly how to touch yourself for me and replay it over and over and over and I’ll never get tired of it. Well…” Yuri chuckles, licking his lips carefully, “My wrist probably would.”

“Yura…” Otabek notices the low growl in his own voice, can feel the thirst in his gaze, yet he does nothing to hide it. Instead he lets his eyes wander all over Yuri’s body, who is standing tall and proud on his feet, squirming slightly. He lets his mind wander through every possibility, the dozens of ways he could fuck Yuri right there, on the sand, against the railing, in the water. Otabek doesn’t care anymore if the place is too public, if it’s a family oriented beach.ne word and he’d rip Yuri’s clothes off and shove him against the first surface he can find and fuck him senseless. 

Who the fuck cares what Viktor thinks, what he might hear? Yuri is all Otabek can think of, and his lust does nothing to quench Otabek’s own. It’s only fueled by the imagery the blond describes. 

“I’d kiss and lick and bite every inch of your skin until you’re unable to say anything but my name and I can only think of your voice in my ears, and the taste of you down my throat-” Yuri can’t finish the sentence. He’s cut off by Otabek sealing his mouth with his own, biting desperately, drinking him down like he was the only thing that could keep Otabek alive. He’s pushed up against the railing,  with Yuri's leg forcing his own open , as Yuri grins against his lips.

Otabek brushes his erection against Yuri’s belly, growling at the touch, and barely pulls away, still almost touching Yuri’s puffy red lips. “That rain check, I’m collecting it tonight,” he says in between gasps and short breaths, letting Yuri press himself against him, rubbing their crotches together and mewling ever so softly. “And this time Viktor will really have something to talk about.”

“Beka, what are you -” Yuri tries to speak but he gets shut up again, chuckling against Otabek’s eager kisses. 

“I’m having my payback, Kitten. And I’ll make sure the entire fucking town can hear you.”  Otabek waits for a huff, a straight up negative. Some form of taunting to retake control, as Yuri loves to do. 

Instead Yuri licks Otabek’s lips and pouts at him, looking up through long lashes. “Is that a challenge, love?” He grins and holds his head up, pressing his erection against Otabek’s own. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Otabek smiles, shoving his hands down Yuri’s back pockets to try and close the already non existent gap between them, caressing his ass more hungrily than delicate. Yuri is some piece of work: tenderly lazy when he wants to be yet needy, insatiable the minute after and Otabek is just  _ so in love.  _ He can’t wait to get back home. 


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri has some particular quirks, Otabek has noticed through the years. He huffs and mocks whenever the married couple gets too sugary, mostly to disguise the tiny smile tugging at his lips. He swears at the end of every sentence  he thinks is too adorable to say out loud ; and Otabek knows he means every word. 

He sways his hips provocatively while walking whenever he catches Otabek staring. Helicks his lower lip, letting the tip of his finger absentmindedly caress it, almost as if he can hear Otabek’s breath catching in his throat. He trails his foot up Otabek’s leg under the table until it reaches his crotch during dinner,  continuing the conversation nonplussed. He’ll run his toes up and down Otabek’s length, peeking at him from the corner of his eye, smirking into his hand. Yuri loves to tease, the little minx, he loves the attention as much as he tries to deny it. 

Yuri doesn’t touch one drop of alcohol that night and neither does Otabek. It’s a challenge and Otabek is a fierce competitor. He meant what he said that afternoon- his mind’s still plagued with thoughts of Yuri begging for release, panting and shivering at every touch. He’s even eyed the linen closet in between the two rooms, wondering how to get some bedding out without the older couple noticing. Although they’re a bit past tipsy now, leaning on each other and making kissy sounds. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so bizarre. 

Of course Yuri gets up in a second, grabbing Otabek’s hand and mock-gagging at the drunken couple. “You two are fucking disgusting, we’re leaving!” He storms off to their room. Otabek would think Yuri was truly pissed if it wasn’t for his hand gently caressing Otabek’s knuckles in his grip. 

He’s too preoccupied with following Yuri’s long strides, and Otabek barely notices where he’s been led until Yuri lets his hand go to turn and kick the door closed behind him. Otabek swallows hard as Yuri moves closer, propping a leg over his shoulder and against the door to trap him. Otabek lets his eyes run from his hand, caressing Yuri’s ankle softly, caressing Yuri’s well defined leg muscles all the way up to the clear outline of Yuri’s cock, which is already hardening in his leggings. Otabek only notices how desperately he’s licking his lips, pleading to have something else to taste but himself, when he sees himself reflected in Yuri’s bright green eyes. 

“See anything you like, love?” Yuri tilts his head, displaying his neck as a bait full knowledge Otabek will bite. And he does want to-- Otabek, lets out a low growl that was supposed to be a chuckle. 

He can still play this game; it’s his turn to move, after all. “When looking at you, always.” Otabek runs his hand form Yuri’s ankle down his leg slowly, savouring every little shiver Yuri tries to hide, until it stops at his thigh. Yuri gasps as Otabek’s fingers reach out to stroke his ass, the other hand gently holding him by his waist. He wraps his arms around Otabek’s neck, looking deep into his eyes. “Now, would you be good for me, Kitten?”

Yuri jokingly meows at him, and both of Otabek’s hands squeeze his ass hard and lift him up to throw him right against the mattress. The bed is still unmade, the sheets in a knot at one side, and Yuri sits down with his legs spread and a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“Why should I be good to you, Beka? You don’t like a challenge?” He bites his lip and Otabek clicks his tongue, stopping himself from taking Yuri’s mouth in his. Instead, he rips the sheet off the mattress in one swift motion. 

He rolls the sheet to act as a rope and looks at Yuri straight in the eye. “The thing is, darling,” Otabek says as he moves to straddle Yuri, passing the twisted sheet in between the wooden bars of the headboard. “You won’t be.” 

Yuri snorts before Otabek slams his hands against the headboard, not hard enough for it to hurt but loud enough to prove a point. He’s still smirking, running tongue slowly against the edge of his teeth. “You won’t stop me so easily, y’know?”

“I don’t mean to stop you, Yura.” Otabek leans in to kiss him softly, snickering as Yuri tries to reach him. He pulls away, then runs his index finger across the length of Yuri’s nose down to his lips and Yuri takes it in his mouth, sucking and licking at his sensitive fingertip. It makes a lewd  _ pop _ as Otabek pulls out, a thin line of saliva still threading from his finger to Yuri’s plump parted lips. 

“Now you’re…” Otabek starts to speak in a low, husky voice but stops to get a hold of himself. He wants to kiss those lips red,  lick Yuri open and fuck him senseless, make him tremble and whimper and moan underneath his frame. But then Yuri would win the game and Otabek can’t allow that. He’s no quitter.

He gather every trace of willpower he’s got left to put his calm facade back on again, even though he notices that Yuri doesn’t buy it for one second. Yuri smirks expectantly at him. “You’re getting distracted, Kitten.” 

At this, Yuri bucks his hips against Otabek’s crotch, and Otabek closes his eyes out of impulse. He drinks in the jolt that runs down his spine, the warmth pulling in his gut. The room feels suddenly too hot, almost asphyxiating; Otabek pulls his now to- tight shirt over his head ,hearing  the muffled whine Yuri breaths through his teeth.

“Beka…” Yuri pouts, arching his back to rub his cock against Otabek’s ass through the flimsy fabric of his leggings. “Let me suck you off, Beka.”

“Stay still, Kitten.” Otabek’s breath is already jagged from his bottled up desire to have Yuri coming undone under his grasp- he’s sweaty and eager and cursing the inventor of those fucking jeans. He swallows his discomfort, his erection throbbing against the hard fabric and already leaking through his underwear, and it only gets worse when he remembers Yuri’s not even wearing any in the first place. He moves to meet Yuri’s mouth but dodges his kiss, a grin more feral than amused dancing on his lips. “Be good, love.” he whispers into Yuri’s lips, “or I’ll have to punish you.”

Yuri clicks his tongue, staring hungrily at Otabek as he pulls his leg from in between them and over Otabek’s shoulder. “Yeah? And what could you possibly do if I’m not?”

What he  _ could _ do indeed, if not touching Yuri would not also be torturing himself. Still, there’s one thing Yuri gets truly desperate about, one thing that makes him curse and squirm and beg, his whole body aching with want. “If you play nice,” Otabek teases, letting a hand run down Yuri’s chest to brush against Yuri’s pulsing erection through already damp leggings. “I’ll let you cum.” 

Yuri breaths out a whimper and presses insistently against Otabek’s palm. “Now if you don’t behave,” he adds, shifting his hand up to hook two fingers underneath Yuri’s waistband. “I won’t.” He snaps the elastic against Yuri’s tender flesh and the boy winces, somehow still unable to stop grinning in anticipation with that dangerously predatory smile of his.

“You wouldn’t dare, Beka.” Yuri challenges, swaying his hips underneath him, still begging for his touch but Otabek kneels up on the bed, holding Yuri down with his palm flat on the boy’s stomach. 

“Wanna try me?” Otabek quirks a brow and Yuri stays still for a long second, until a soft mewl escapes his lips. “What’s that, Kitten?”

“Touch me,” Yuri pleads, pouting the way he knows Otabek can’t resist. He tilts his head to the side, looking almost cute through lust-clouded eyes, and whines again. “Please.” He drags the words across his mouth like liquid candy dripping from his lips. Even when Otabek is trying to take control, it’s too hard to resist Yuri when he plays coy and adorable and  _ begs  _ for it. 

Otabek places the softest of kisses on Yuri’s ankle, then a second one on his calf before twisting his mouth and leaning back onto Yuri. “We need to take this thing off,” he says. 

Yuri giggles as he pulls his knees against his chest, laying his feet flat on Otabek’s chest. “You take yours first!” He replies and it sounds like a kid’s tantrum. 

Otabek huffs in protest but doesn’t really resist, his fingers hooking the button of his jeans undone and unzipping them in one swift motion. He steps off the bed to undress in a not-too-subtle hurry as Yuri chuckles softly, following his every move like a tiger about to jump. Otabek kneels back onto the bed and Yuri spreads his legs wider to accommodate him, drinking in the sight before his eyes: Otabek kneeling on the mattress, sun-kissed skin tightening over his well-toned muscles. His leaking cock is throbbing for attention, glistening with precum. 

He offers his hands, palms up, as if asking a silent question and Yuri answers; he always does, he always knows  _ how _ . As Otabek leans over Yuri to tug the waistband of his leggings down, Yuri lifts his legs over one of Otabek’s shoulders.  Otabek plants a kiss on his hips, which buck up to meet Otabek’s mouth. . 

“You’ll be nice, won’t you, Yura?” Otabek asks, pushing Yuri’s pants down ever so slowly to kiss every freshly-uncovered inch of Yuri’s skin. Still, he only receives a series of gasps for an answer.

Otabek looks up to find Yuri nodding at him as soon as their gazes meet, swallowing hard every time Otabek’s lips touch his skin. That’s as good an answer as any, and Otabek pulls Yuri’s pants off. His mouth follows the trace left by his fingers running ghostly soft on Yuri’s thigh, knee, and calf, until Yuri pulls one leg over Otabek’s head to rest on his free shoulder, folding his feet to encourage Otabek forward. 

“Please, Beka,” Yuri begs and it takes every drop of Otabek’s strength not to ravish him right then. “Come to me.”

Otabek digs his fingertips into Yuri’s ankles, trailing with kisses the become licks that becomes nibbles. He has to stop himself when he feels the pressure of Yuri’s legs closing against his ears when he bites down on that particularly sensitive spot on Yuri’s inner thigh. He’d apologize if it wasn’t for Yuri’s whimpered plea to ‘get the fuck on with it”. Otabek chuckles at the words, making Yuri flinch at the contact of hot breath against his cock.

Yuri tries to speak but his words trip on his tongue, stuttering their way out, and Otabek bites his lip to keep from commenting on how cute Yuri is when he’s flustered. He lays his tongue flat right in between Yuri’s cheeks and licks a straight line up across his balls to the head of his dick, spreading the droplets of cum as Yuri moans and squirms to point him in the right direction. 

Yuri jerks his hips upward, bumping his cock against Otabek’s lips. Otabek he obliges, taking Yuri’s length in expertly, hollowing his cheeks along the way. He smiles when a jagged moan cuts through the lewd noises Yuri makes as he thrusts into Otabek’s mouth. He’s eager, brushing the tip of his cock against Otabek’s tongue piercing. The thrusts grow faster and Otabek encourages him, hands cupping Yuri’s ass to help him reach deeper. But Otabek stops as soon as Yuri starts babbling his name, a full octave higher than usual and tugging desperately at his restraints. He pushes Yuri’s hips back down on the bed and sits back. 

“Beka, come the fuck back here,” Yuri scolds, sounding more in need than in control. Otabek just chuckles, pressing his fingertips right over Yuri’s hipbones to hold him in place. 

“Don’t order me around, Kitten.” Otabek tries to pull off a calm demeanor but his voice trembles in anticipation. If it weren’t for his own need to make Yuri cry out just like he did last night, he would have ridden that smug smirk off of him by now. 

Instead, Otabek searches for the willpower he knows he doesn’t have to keep on with the game, remembering how Yuri sounds when he’s completely lost for words. Otabek loosens his grip on Yuri’s hips and Yuri arches his back to encourage him to go on. Otabek brushes the metal ball resting on his tongue across the slit of Yuri’s cock, then continues licking down before Yuri can push back into his mouth, earning a loud gasp the moment he presses past Yuri’s perineum. He laps and prods against Yuri’s rim and the blond’s thighs twitch, his foot running along Otabek’s hair to his back and pushing him forward. 

Otabek’s triumphant chuckle gets stifled by the sinful noises coming out of Yuri’s mouth, and Otabek’s own quiet moans. Yuri whimpers, flinching at every flick of Otabek’s tongue against his hole but still lunging forward to meet Otabek as he kneads on Yuri’s cheeks to spread him open. He stops for a full second, his own unattended cock swollen pink and aching for release, until Yuri whines desperately again. 

Otabek’s voice betrays him, grunting the words out as if he was about to jump onto Yuri to devour him. Truth be told, he’s hardly holding back, wondering how much can he keep up with this.  _ If he can: _ Yuri will probably have his own fun if Otabek dares to come without even being touched, and will most likely try to make it happen again. Not that Otabek would complain about it, anyway. “Play nice or I’ll keep you hard like this all night.” 

Yuri is a force of nature: he can sweep Otabek off his feet with a sway of his hips, make him follow with the wink of an eye, drive him crazy with a flick of his tongue. He can turn Otabek into a sinful, begging mess, and so Yuri does just that: he consumes Otabek like a raging fire, leaving nothing untouched. He’s like an earthquake, shaking Otabek to the core so violently yet so deeply Otabek finds it hard to gather up the debris once Yuri leaves, following the trace of the lingering touch on his skin with his fingers. 

Otabek is used to violence, yes, but a different kind of violence: the kind of loving that’s not loving at all, a tornado raging through him and leaving nothing but barren soil behind, too unstable to support any foundation, making it impossible to start over. However, Yuri’s not destructive: he’s overwhelming, like the flame that calls for the moth to fly closer, but every time Otabek reaches out for Yuri’s arms, Yuri pulls him further away from his own sharp edges, as if Yuri were the antidote for the poison that is Otabek’s sick world. 

These are the times Otabek appreciates the most: the times when Yuri calls his name, his nails digging into the fabric of the sheets wrapped around his wrists, spread out and begging for Otabek’s touch. The times when there’s nothing rushing them, not the voice on a speaker calling their names, not the strangers banging on the club’s bathroom door. Times like now, when he gets to drink in all of Yuri’s desire, the way his breathy voice calls to Otabek. 

He feels small more often than not, hiding against Yuri’s frame to keep the world from touching him He feels unworthy of Yuri’s love, as if it was only a mask for pity, but time like these, Otabek can almost see the link in between them, the way Yuri arches and writhes and cries out for him. Otabek moves back down to push his tongue inside of Yuri’s hole, brushing the metal ball against Yuri’s walls and sensing him tighten at every new twist and prod, his feet curving, one against the mattress and one hovering over Otabek’s back, his hips held away from the mattress by Otabek’s hands. His thighs are trembling from the effort that it takes to keep from pulling away altogether. 

These are the times that Yuri repeats Otabek’s name so sweetly, so lovingly, in between gasps and shudders and moans, that Otabek has to stop and look at the boy. Yuri is flushed pink and sweaty, his head turned to a side, strands of hair already sticking onto his forehead. These are the times when Yuri could ask his heart in tribute and Otabek would rip his own chest open for him. That’s why he needs to loom over Yuri, to attend to his every plea muttered under his breath in a shaky voice. 

“What is it, love?” Otabek whispers softly against Yuri’s ear, suddenly too aware of the way Yuri’s skin shivers as he responds to Otabek’s warm breath against his neck, the too-soft touch of Otabek’s fingers tracing his collarbone. “Let me hear you.” And Otabek’s voice sounds like that of a devotee on his knees, murmuring his prayers, almost convinced they’ll never reach the angel’s ears. 

But they do, and the words pour out like a melody, crumpling into each other and hushed in between Yuri’s teeth. “Please, Beka,” he says in a muffled moan. Otabek can’t resist the urge to trace the line of Yuri’s neck with his tongue, tasting salt on his lips as he does so. “Please, fuck me.”

Otabek feels the wave of want washing over him, as if the simple phrase had awaken the feral hunger inside of him.  A shiver runs down his spine, like a thunderclap, summoned by Yuri’s plea. “Say it again,” he asks, his own self control running thin as he position himself right in between Yuri’s legs, prodding at his entrance.

“Fuck me.” Yuri repeats, his legs clinging around Otabek’s waist and one of his feet moving delicately down to his ass to pull him closer. “Please, Beka.” He whines, and Otabek gives in. 

He feels Yuri tightening around him, the warmth of him sending shock waves of pleasure across Otabek’s body as he pushes slowly in. Otabek clenches his teeth in order to stop the grunting that quickly turns into a desperate moan when he sinks all the way into Yuri. 

Yuri squeezes him tight, clawing at the binds and crying out his name. Otabek will never get tired of listening to the way Yuri moaned his name, like it was ripping him. Otabek shifts his hips to rub against Yuri’s sensitive prostate, earning a sudden yelp from the blond. He pulls out to thrust again, leaning in on his palms to smother Yuri’s moans in between his lips as he loses control of his own rhythm. Otabek’s skin prickles with sensation and his arms buckle under his weight, forcing him to hold himself on his elbows. He’s so close to release that he has to bite a moan onto the nape of Yuri’s neck. 

Otabek senses Yuri clenching around him, his hard on throbbing in between their stomachs, leaking onto their skin, and he pushes back up as Yuri whimpers a protest. Otabek tries to smirk but he’s too far gone to play. “Talk to me, Yura.” He sways his hips from side to side, and Yuri squirms underneath him.

“Let me.” Yuri’s voice trembles, his eyes closed and muscles tense, a thin layer a sweat coating every inch of him. “Please, Beka, touch me,” he begs, rocking himself slowly up and down Otabek’s shaft. “Let me come.”

Otabek can’t hold it much longer: he grabs Yuri roughly by his ass and rams into him like his life depends on it. His vision is starting to get blurry as his head lolls back in pleasure. He barely even notices the force he’s using to hold Yuri in place, to move him up and down his cock- Otabek is zoned out, his vision blurry. is ears register only the sound of his own loud moans and Yuri’s high-pitched curses, cried out and bitten down at every push. He finally comes deep inside of Yuri, riding the final waves of his orgasm slowly, his attention centered on Yuri’s cock, bright pink and begging for attention. 

Yuri asks once again and Otabek pulls out to take all of Yuri’s dick into his mouth in a swift motion; the blond twitches and thrusts into Otabek’s throat as he pulls out, letting him come all over his stomach and chest. 

Yuri’s body is still shivering with sensation when he pouts, exhausted and panting and so damn beautiful. He huffs and throws his head hard against the pillow, closing his eyes and taking his time to find the words. “Look at this mess.” He looks back at Otabek. “All your fault.”

Otabek can taste Yuri in his throat, the salt of Yuri’s skin on his lips. It’s never enough for him. “Is it now?” He quirks a brow, licking his lips. 

His whole body is heavy and worn out as if he’d just spend three full days on the ice, but he could kiss and lick and gnaw at Yuri until he’s run out of breath. “All my fault, huh?” Yuri nods, a tiny smirk blossoming on his bitten red lips. It seems to be contagious, and Otabek smiles back, planting a kiss right under his collarbones and tasting the bitter touch of come. “Let me fix that.”

He traces the splatter on Yuri’s torso with small swift flick of his tongue, savouring every drop and moving slowly down. Yuri flinches at every touch, too oversensitive to stay put. He stifles a giggle that turns into a breathy moan as his wrists rub against each other, tugging at the fabric. 

Otabek chuckles against Yuri’s skin to finally take Yuri’s half-hard cock into his mouth, sucking softly to lick him clean. He drinks in every vibration of Yuri’s pleading whines ashis legs close onto Otabek’s ears, the smell of sex on his skin. He smiles against Yuri’s balls before licking down to reach Yuri’s hole, sore and pink and spread open. 

Yuri gasps and almost sits up when he feels Otabek’s tongue back inside of him, moving expertly against his walls as he clenches around it. Otabek licks and laps and suck at Yuri’s hole until the boy squirms and begs him to stop, his whole body completely out of energy and sprawled on the bed. 

Otabek sits up to contemplate at the stunning sight that is Yuri completely out of breath. His pale skin is blushed and spotted with love marks here and there, his hair a mess splayed on the pillow, eyelids fluttering shut as he pants. Otabek’s roaming eyes fall onto Yuri’s hands, a shade of red or two darker than his arms, and he lunges forward to untie Yuri, whose his arms fall languidly against the mattress. 

Yuri groans the moment he feels the pinpricks of circulation running back into his hands.“What did you do to me?” he scolds with mock offense, but still rubs his wrists with too much emphasis for it to feel like a joke. 

Truth be told, Otabek has never done something like this before: the few times he had been bound wereless than pleasant, to say it lightly. Otabek wouldn’t have gone for it if Yuri had told him not to; he would have stopped the second Yuri asked. But Yuri didn’t say a thing, probably too distracted to focus on his hands going numb. Otabek should have known something like this could have happened, he should have done his research. What if he ended up seriously injuring Yuri? He could have never forgive himself then. What if-?

“Oi.” Yuri waves a hand in front of his face, a clear red stripe blossoming on his pale wrist. “I’m joking, moron. I’m fine.” He shrugs and shifts onto his side, moving so Otabek can lay behind him.

Otabek lays down against Yuri’s back, his hand running almost automatically from Yuri’s stomach to his abused wrist; he can’t help but flinch at the clear marks of the folds of the fabrics imprinted onto the boy’s skin.

“Really?” And this time Yuri sounds irritated; he turns to look at Otabek’s expression, too honest for Otabek’s taste. “You’ve pretty much fucked me senseless and now you’re worried about my wrists?” It’s more a statement of fact than a question and Otabek chuckles. 

He wasn’t  _ that _ rough, was he? He still holds Yuri closer, just in case, as the blond speaks. “You’ve-” He starts, but snorts and turns to the window, giving his back to Otabek who sweetly kisses the back of his neck, the line of his shoulderblades. “You’ve got some nerve.” Yuri finally finishes, shaking his head. 

“Well, We both  _ will have to. _ ” Otabek remembers, wincing. He’s been through quite an awkward breakfast this morning and he’s got the feeling it won’t get better without getting worse first. He reaches out to take Yuri’s wrist back into his hand. “When they see these--” 

Otabek wishes he could think of any way to avoid Victor and Yuuri, to walk past the interrogation that will obviously ensue the minute Yuri walks downstairs. He’s too scared to think of anything, too tired for his mind to work.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Yuri jokes, and Otabek doesn’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling with that smartass grin of his. Still Yuri turns to him once more because some things are better said face to face. “Your mouth’s got quite some talent after all.”

The reply takes him by surprise, leaving him speechless even when Yuri turn his back to Otabek to finally sleep. The cheeky bastard. 

He just hopes Yuri wakes up just as defiant as he fell asleep, rubbing his ass against Otabek’s crotch out of habit. 

One thing’s for sure: if Viktor even hears one word of tonight, he’ll never call him cute again. That’s for sure. 

Otabek almost wants him to. 

But right now he’d rather just hold onto Yuri and drift off to sleep. Tomorrow will be a new day. 


End file.
